A/N – And so we come at last to the end. I have split the final chapter into two so that any readers who prefer not to read R-rated fic can enjoy this conclusion. For those who don't mind a little R-rated sex, then read on to Chapter 34 which follows Eomer and Lothiriel into the matrimonial bed.

Finally, my thanks to all you wonderful people who have reviewed this story and encouraged me immensely along the way. I will forever be grateful for your kind and generous words.

Chapter 33 – A desperate ride

No! The witch was going to hang Lothiriel!

Even as the thought formed, Eomer saw Galwyn move. His gaze jerked back to Lothiriel, and he screamed his fury and distress. Where moments before she had been standing, now she was clearly suspended. No. No! There was no way he could reach her in time to save her. Not even at the bone-jarring gallop that Firefoot was doing. There was nothing he could do except watch the woman he loved kick and struggle against the noose that was choking the life from her. Already her effort was weakening. She was dying. Right before his eyes.

"Legolas," Aragorn shouted. "Your bow."

Uncomprehending, Eomer dragged his attention from the horrifying scene. He looked round wildly and saw Legolas position an arrow at the ready. The elf was still riding at a full gallop, his hips rolling with the motion, but his upper body was miraculously steady. He took aim, straight at Lothiriel. What was he thinking? To spare her pain by killing her quickly? "No!"

"Trust him!" Aragorn called.

Eomer choked off another cry as Legolas drew back the string on his bow, and then let the arrow fly. Twisting to face front again, Eomer's gaze followed its flight. And suddenly he understood. Of course! The arrow hissed over Lothiriel's head, catching at the rope as it passed, slicing through some of the twisted cords. A second arrow followed. More strands were cut. Yet still she hung from the gibbet, no longer struggling, head bowed. An elvish curse cut through the air and a third arrow took flight. This one completed the task. The rope broke.

And Lothiriel dropped lifelessly to the ground.

It was a sight that Eomer knew would haunt him forever more. Move, he silently begged Lothiriel, please move. Please don't be dead. His plea went unheeded. He was vaguely aware that Galwyn was now mounted and galloping into the distance, but right now he did not care. All he wanted was to reach Lothiriel. A lifetime seemed to pass as Firefoot covered the remaining distance. Not waiting for Firefoot to come to a halt, he vaulted from his back, almost fell as he struggled to find his feet on the rough grassland, and then he was running.

"Lothiriel!" He dropped to his knees and scooped her into his arms, tugging at the tight twist of rope around her neck. No, dear gods, no. Her lips were blue. Her eyes closed, her body still. At last the rope came free, and he leaned over her, pressing his mouth to hers, breathing his own breath into her body. "Lothiriel, please." Tears were running down his face, but he didn't care. "Lothiriel," he begged. "Don't leave me. Don't let her win." A soft footfall by his side made him look up. It was Aragorn. Despair overtook Eomer. "We were too late. I was too late."

"Perhaps not," Aragorn murmured. He also knelt besides Lothiriel, gently resting his fingers at the pulse point of her neck. "It is faint, but there is still an echo of life."

"You can save her?" Eomer asked desperately. "You can, right? You have healing hands. I saw what you did for Eowyn."

A deep sigh rippled through Aragorn and his frown deepened. "Your sister was touched by the evil of the Witch King. This is not an injury caused by dark magic."

No. Eomer shook his head. Refused to hear. "Try, Aragorn. You have to try!"

Another sigh escaped Aragorn, and then he gave a hesitant nod as he glanced at Eomer. "Perhaps love can prevail where the physical world would steal life. " Slowly he reached out and wiped a finger over Eomer's damp cheek, and then he brushed the tears against Lothiriel's lips. Leaning over her, he took Eomer's right hand and placed it over her heart, then covered Eomer's hand with his own. Finally he began to whisper soft words in a tongue Eomer did not recognise.

Eomer shivered as the air around them suddenly swirled with an icy breeze. He stared down at Lothiriel, willing her to live and desperate to feel the beat of her heart beneath his palm. His life would be empty and hollow without her by his side. His own heart would be dead even though it still pumped his blood around his veins. He needed her. Loved her. Would gladly give his own life for her.

A gasp cut through the air, and Lothiriel suddenly jerked. Her eyes fluttered opened, confusion in them as she stared up at him. "Eomer?' she croaked.

His tears were flowing again. Tears now of joy. He drew her tightly against his chest, his arms enfolding her, and his face buried in her hair. "You're safe now. Safe." It was some time before he could bring himself to believe it, but finally he looked up and gave Aragorn a tremulous smile. "Thank you."

Aragorn gave a small smile as he shrugged off the gratitude. "'Twas the strength of your love for her that bought her back, my friend."

Eomer's gaze at Lothiriel again, and he pressed his lips to her forehead, relishing the warmth of her skin. Whatever the reason she breathed, he would forever be grateful to Aragorn. And to Legolas. Memory of the elf's expert archery made him turn and seek him out. To his surprise Legolas was some distance away. Elfhelm, with Gimli seated behind him was riding towards him. Eothain rode beside them.

"Few escape when Legolas aims an arrow," Aragorn observed, as he followed the direction of Eomer's gaze.

Eomer helped Lothiriel to her feet, keeping one arm firmly wrapped around her waist. She looked pale and there were dark red weals around her neck, but other than that she seemed to be recovering speedily from her ordeal. A few moments later Eothain and Elfhelm returned, each holding one of Galwyn's arms as they dragged her lifeless body between their horses. Seeing they had Eomer's attention they let her fall face down onto the grassland. Three arrows protruded from her back. Lothiriel shivered as she stared down at the witch, but Eomer felt nothing but cold relief. He turned to Legolas. "I am indebted to you."

"She could not be allowed to escape," Legolas replied. "There is no debt owing."

"Thank you," Eomer said. He felt suddenly dizzy. It was over. At last it was really over.

Lothiriel turned towards him, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her head to his chest. For a long moment she simply held him, and in so doing gave him time to find his balance once again, to be reassured that she was indeed alive and well. When finally a long, deep healing shudder ran through him, she spoke. "Eomer, my love?"

"Yes."

"Don't we have a wedding to get to?"

He stared down at her in amazement. "You were almost killed. In fact…" He couldn't bring himself to say it, that she hadn't been breathing when he'd reached her. "The wedding can wait until you're ready."

"I'm ready now, Eomer." She smiled up at him, love and desire burning hot in her eyes.

"Are you sure?" She still seemed so pale, so fragile. He could barely imagine touching her, let alone making love to her.

In response she slipped her hand around the back of his neck and drew him down for a kiss - a deep, passionate kiss that set his body on fire. "Are you?" she asked, mischief in her eyes.

He groaned in pleasant frustration. "Ready enough to ask that Aragorn simply witness our vows here and now so I can whisk you back to the Golden Hall and our private chambers."

She laughed softly. "One last ceremony, my lord and my king. Then at last I will be able to call you husband." Standing on tiptoe, she planted a kiss on the end of his nose.

"Take me home."